The Gilded Age by Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner

was to get an officer of the U. S. government, of perfectly Himmalayan

official altitude, to write up our little internal improvement for a

religious paper of enormous circulation–I tell you that makes our bonds

go handsomely among the pious poor. Your religious paper is by far the

best vehicle for a thing of this kind, because they’ll ‘lead’ your

article and put it right in the midst of the reading matter; and if it’s

got a few Scripture quotations in it, and some temperance platitudes and

a bit of gush here and there about Sunday Schools, and a sentimental

snuffle now and then about ‘God’s precious ones, the honest hard-handed

poor,’ it works the nation like a charm, my dear sir, and never a man

suspects that it is an advertisement; but your secular paper sticks you

right into the advertising columns and of course you don’t take a trick.

Give me a religious paper to advertise in, every time; and if you’ll just

look at their advertising pages, you’ll observe that other people think a

good deal as I do–especially people who have got little financial

schemes to make everybody rich with. Of course I mean your great big

metropolitan religious papers that know how to serve God and make money

at the same time–that’s your sort, sir, that’s your sort–a religious

paper that isn’t run to make money is no use to us, sir, as an

advertising medium–no use to anybody–in our line of business. I guess

our next best dodge was sending a pleasure trip of newspaper reporters

out to Napoleon. Never paid them a cent; just filled them up with

champagne and the fat of the land, put pen, ink and paper before them

while they were red-hot, and bless your soul when you come to read their

letters you’d have supposed they’d been to heaven. And if a sentimental

squeamishness held one or two of them back from taking a less rosy view

of Napoleon, our hospitalities tied his tongue, at least, and he said

nothing at all and so did us no harm. Let me see–have I stated all the

expenses I’ve been at? No, I was near forgetting one or two items.

There’s your official salaries–you can’t get good men for nothing.

Salaries cost pretty lively. And then there’s your big high-sounding

millionaire names stuck into your advertisements as stockholders–another

card, that–and they are stockholders, too, but you have to give them the

stock and non-assessable at that–so they’re an expensive lot. Very,

very expensive thing, take it all around, is a big internal improvement

concern–but you see that yourself, Mr. Bryerman–you see that, yourself,

sir.”

“But look here. I think you are a little mistaken about it’s ever having

cost anything for Congressional votes. I happen to know something about

that. I’ve let you say your say–now let me say mine. I don’t wish to

seem to throw any suspicion on anybody’s statements, because we are all

liable to be mistaken. But how would it strike you if I were to say that

I was in Washington all the time this bill was pending? and what if I

added that I put the measure through myself? Yes, sir, I did that little

thing. And moreover, I never paid a dollar for any man’s vote and never

promised one. There are some ways of doing a thing that are as good as

others which other people don’t happen to think about, or don’t have the

knack of succeeding in, if they do happen to think of them. My dear sir,

I am obliged to knock some of your expenses in the head–for never a cent

was paid a Congressman or Senator on the part of this Navigation Company.

The president smiled blandly, even sweetly, all through this harangue,

and then said:

“Is that so?”

“Every word of it.”

“Well it does seem to alter the complexion of things a little. You are

acquainted with the members down there, of course, else you could not

have worked to such advantage?”

“I know them all, sir. I know their wives, their children, their babies

–I even made it a point to be on good terms with their lackeys. I know

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